Soul Collector
by ADifferentKindOfFear
Summary: A new shop is opening in town and Isabella has a ring side seat for the wickedness that is about to unfold. Slightly based on Stephen's Kings novel, Needful Things.


**Soul Collector**

**Entry for the A Different Kind of Fear contest**

**Summary: A new shop is opening in town and Isabella has a ring side seat for the wickedness that is about to unfold. Slightly based on Stephen's Kings novel, Needful Things.**

**Pairing: Edward/Bella**

**Word Count: 4967**

**Disclaimer: Stephenie Meyer owns Twilight and all characters. Stephen King owns Needful Things. I don't own anything but my love of both.**

**Special thanks to my beta team.**

Look!

Did you see?

There is a new shop opening across the street. I have been watching from my window. I can see everything from up here on the fourth floor. I can see the diner and the gas station down the block. I can see other apartment buildings and some houses. I can also see the consignment shop right next door to the new store with the bookstore on the opposite side. I wonder what the new store will sell.

Over the years, that little store has been owned by many different people. It was once an art gallery? Laughable, if you think about it, for such a small and poor town. It was an appliance store at one point, a pet store at another. Mike Newton's dad used to sell camping equipment there until the idiot realized no one wants to camp in rainy Washington.

Not one of those stores lasted over a year. I think that place is bad luck so I keep an eye on it from up here. My parents died years ago and I never married. I prefer to stay alone in my tiny apartment, although, I do have a friend who comes to see me weekly. His name is Jacob and he comes on Saturdays. He brings me fresh fish and offers me a ride to the store. He's sweet but dumb. He thinks I will eventually get tired of being alone and run off with him...but I won't.

I like it here, I just don't like the people much but I suppose it's mostly the same everywhere. I imagine you probably live in the same sort of town. Tiny stores on a two lane street. Small white houses with clapboard shutters. Brick apartment buildings with lots of windows. Small town people with small town minds, living small town lives.

See? I don't drink or smoke. I don't swear or lie. I have never stolen and I honored my father and mother. I keep to myself and I don't bother anyone. My one weakness is that I like to people watch. I love to watch the people on the streets and in the shops. I even have binoculars by the window so that I can see inside of their homes.

I don't feel bad about it though. I see how the men drink too much and the women flirt with those who are not their husbands. Sinners. I am better than all of them and I do not wish to socialize with them. I do, however, enjoy watching them make fools of themselves.

I have a feeling things are about to become much worse for the sinners of this town. The ground is simply vibrating with energy. The air is supercharged and you can see the shimmering waves of change on the breeze. It is unseasonably hot today as well. I have been watching the mercury rise slowly as the day has progressed.

However, the big spectacle today is the new shop. Early this morning, Mike Newton's construction company came and replaced the awning with brand new jade green ones. The windows were cleaned, though I saw no wares in the display. Currently a new sign was being placed above the door. The imbeciles still had it crooked, but you clearly read the words, "The Collector," written in bright red script. Wonder what that means?

Mike Newton himself was the first to enter the store, after his tasks were finally complete. After a short while, he returned back on the street with a baseball bat in his hands. He cradled it in his arms as if it were something to be cherished. When one of his hired hands, Tyler approached him pointing at the object, Mike jerked his body away, turning his back and effectively putting himself between Tyler and the precious wooden bat. Very interesting.

My suspicions that the store sold sports equipment were refuted hours later when Tyler returned in his personal car and entered the store. Moments later, he exited with a garment bag. It didn't even look particularly new. There appeared to be holes in places. Still, Tyler hugged it to him and quickly made his way back to his car. All the while, glancing over his shoulder; up and down the street. Strange.

~000~

This morning, there is a small sign on the door of the new shop. In bold, red letters is the word, "Open". I still see nothing in the display windows and when I used my binoculars, I saw nothing in the store at all. The place looked vacant. The wooden shelves on the walls were bare. Even the glass cases were void of any merchandise.

Still, I saw Angela Webber enter that store at 10 a.m. and she left with a magazine and a smug smile. I could see without the binoculars that it was nothing more than a worn copy of GQ. I had to roll my eyes. She always did have her head in the clouds. She tucked the book up under her arm and used her other hand to fan herself. It was sweltering today, even hotter than yesterday. I'm surprised the daft girl notices anything outside of her own head.

At a quarter past noon, Jessica Stanley entered the store. She was inside for a long time. I almost missed her coming back out because I was finishing my lunch. I saw her though, her face all red and splotchy from crying. She was still wiping at her eyes when she shut the door behind her. I watched in disbelief as she twirled a key chain around her finger. Stopping on the sidewalk, she held the dangling item up to the sun and smiled at it lovingly. It was nothing but a small, glittery red apple. I could tell she was happy with it though. She's the type of girl who likes new and shiny things but loses interest quickly when something else comes along. Just ask the three men who have married and divorced her.

Nothing exciting happened the rest of the day. Though, I sat and watched, no one else entered the new shop. I still had yet to see the owner. I had not seen him arrive nor depart from this location. Curious, I sat ever vigilant and watched for any movement in the new store. I tried using the binoculars several times but I saw nothing. The store may as well have been unoccupied.

Six o'clock came and just for an instant, I saw a hand, with long tapered fingers, turn the sign on the door to "Closed". I waited and waited for the shopkeeper to exit and lock the door, signaling the end of the day. Instead, fifteen minutes later, I watched as Rosalie McCarty parked her blue sedan on the curb and walked to the door. She glanced around the street before pushing and entering through the doorway. Strange that the hand that switched the sign would not lock the door as well.

I had hoped that Mrs. McCarty would be put out on the street since the store was technically closed for the evening. She had never been nice to me... or anyone else for that matter. I suppose she was the prettiest girl in town, if you like that trashy sort of look. Regardless of what anyone else thought, Rosalie believed she was the epitome of beauty and flaunted herself for everyone to see. Shameful, the spectacle she makes of herself. Her fool husband, Emmett, who is the police chief these days, is too stupid to see what a floozy she is, but I see. Oh yes, I see.

Rosalie was in that store for over an hour. She came stumbling out, smiling and clutching a tiny pink blanket to her bosom. It appeared to be a baby blanket with a little white rabbit in one corner. What she was going to do with that thing, I have no idea. She had no children, probably afraid of ruining her figure. That's how women like that were. I, for one, am glad Rosalie and Emmett never made babies, I'm afraid the poor kid would get the big gorilla's looks and Rose's dead brain cells.

She was stuffing that blanket under the driver's seat of her brand new car when Jasper Hale turned the corner down by the gas station. Everyone in this town knows Jasper is nothing but a no account drunk. He was too drunk most days to take a bath, let alone work. When he was in high school, he was the quarterback of the football team. Voted most likely to succeed. Shows what the people of this town know. Rose scrambled into the car when she saw him, slamming the door behind her and squealing tires down Main Street.

Jasper watched her go, shaking his head. He slovenly made his way down the street, stopping every few minutes to look around the sidewalk for change that had been dropped through the day as people left the shops. He stopped at The Collector and peered through the window. All at once, he pivoted away, wide-eyed. Looking all around him, he spun in circles a few times until he fell onto his bottom on the pavement.

He sat, surprised, for a moment before turning himself onto his knees to attempt pushing himself back into a standing position. Before he could accomplish his task under such inebriation, the shop door swung open and out stepped a man holding a bottle of whiskey.

I use the term man loosely; this was nothing more than a boy. He looked to be around seventeen, definitely not more than twenty. He was wearing a suit and tie but that was the only thing about him that looked professional. His hair was a strange shade of red and it stuck straight up on his head. He held the bottle out to Jasper as his lips pulled back into a malevolent smile.

Everything about this man screamed danger but Jasper went to him willingly. He stared into the man's eyes as he swayed on his feet. No words were exchanged, yet Jasper nodded once at the man before reaching for the bottle. The man turned, entering the store once more, and Jasper followed, closing the door behind him. I never saw neither of them leave. I guess I fell asleep after the news went off for the evening.

~000~

_What could that new shopkeeper be doing in that store at all hours of the day and night? And with Jasper Hale no less. Did he intend to live there? Where was all the merchandise? This is a strange situation indeed. I'll have to keep an extra vigilant watch over that place. Never can be too careful with strangers you know._

I saw the hand flip the sign in the doorway at eight sharp and I noticed the thermometer already read ninety-three degrees. Not ten minutes later, Riley Biers entered. I watched with my binoculars through the still bare window of the shop. Riley stood in the middle of the room staring at the floor. I saw the man reach his hand out toward him. In fact, all I could see was the man's outstretched arm, his hand closed in a fist.

Riley's eyes shot up to the man's face, I assume, since I could not see, and he swayed a bit before nodding, just as Jasper had last night. When the man opened his hand, in it he held a fishing pole. It seemed to appear out of thin air. Riley reached a trembling hand toward the pole and tears began to stream down his cheeks. He followed the man to the opposite side of the room and I could no longer view what they were doing.

Riley left the store with his new fishing pole. The thing looked ridiculous. The line was hanging loose from the eyelets and there didn't appear to be a reel attached at all. He dragged the fishing line behind him as he walked to his car. That boy always was gullible. If he has not sense enough to see a raw deal, then he deserves what he gets.

Alice Brandon entered the store and returned to the street carrying a hat box. No telling what that woman bought. She and I went to school together and she was always eccentric- from her flamboyant clothes to her outlandish hairstyles. The woman is crazy, I tell you. She does it for attention. Alice has a flair for the melodramatic.

Tanya Denali and Victoria Coven were next. They had been walking down the street together and peered through the window a moment before going to the door. Those girls are always together. They live together down the block and are always holding hands. It's disgraceful. They will both answer to God for their sins of the flesh. I hope I am there to witness. I'll enjoy watching them burn. They came out smiling and holding a glass bowl of some sort between them and quickly made their way back to their end of the block.

All day long the residents of this small town streamed in and out of that shop. Strange that they never carried their purchases in a bag. Seth Clearwater bought a watch. Billy Black came out with an electric razor. Carlisle Cullen exited with a child's medical play-set. Bree Tanner carried with her a small figurine of a dove when she stepped back out onto the sidewalk, walking right into Emily Young. The women appeared to be growling as they stepped backward from one another.

Renee Dwyer held a painting of that young actor everyone is always raving about. Sam Uley came out with a book. The spine was cracked and hanging loose but he hugged it to him and looked positively starry eyed. Laurent James was in the store for over an hour before exiting with what appeared to be a wig. Irina Garrett carried a porcelain doll whose left eye was hanging askew. Charlotte Randall held a model airplane in her hands when she exited.

All the while the heat continued to rise. It felt like it was coming up from the ground and being pushed down from the sky as well. Time seemed to halt as the people danced around each other. No one spoke to anyone else. In fact, they glared almost menacingly at each other as they shielded their purchases from the other's sight.

~000~

That night, around 3 a.m... I only know because I was awake going to the restroom and just so happened to look out. Anyway, down the block I saw Renee Dwyer sneak into Angela Webber's apartment window that stood open off from the terrace. She returned a few minutes later, back out through the window, carrying the magazine I had seen Angela with on the street yesterday.

On the opposite side of the road, Angela Webber was slipping through the back door of Renee Dwyer's house. When she returned back to the street she held, in her hands, the painting of the famous actor. Before Angela left the Dwyer residence, she stalked right over to the woman's prize winning begonia's and began to stomp on them with the heels of her shoes. She climbed into the flower bed, jumping up and down, then reached down and began pulling at the roots that were still sticking up from the ground. When she tired, she looked down at her muddy hands, and then walked over to the laundry that still hung on the line swiping her hands in broad strokes over the clean white linen.

I assume she thought the sheets belonged to Renee but I happen to know that she shares that line with her neighbor out back, Jessica Stanley.

Both women walked straight up the street in front of me with their ill-gotten goods. They walked right into each other in the middle of the block and it was a sight to behold. They began circling each other their faces bright with rage. I squealed in glee when they raced toward each other pulling hair and punching. Renee managed to wrestle Angela to the ground and straddle her chest. Reaching out with one arm, she grasped a rock in her fist and commenced to punching Angela in the face. Over and over again until Angela's chest no longer rose and fell with breath. Renee then pulled Angela's lifeless body behind the building. She came back, peeking out from the alley and peering both ways carefully before taking off at a sprint for her house.

The body didn't go undiscovered long and the police chief was soon on the scene with an ambulance, several squad cars, and the town mortician, Eric Yorkie. Emmett spoke to several people up and down the block but he never asked me. Why should I make his life any easier if he was too dumb to figure out his own job?

Shortly before seven, as the group began to disperse, the chief's wife arrived. He escorted her to the diner and after an early breakfast the couple walked down the street to the new store. They looked like they were just strolling and browsing but I saw Emmett pin his badge on his jacket before entering. Emmett entered the store with an air of business while Rosalie's eyes held a gleam. I also saw that pink blanket hanging out of her purse.

When they came back out the door, the chief had a bear skin thrown over his shoulder and he was smiling widely. He and Rosalie appeared to be arguing. It was hard to tell with Emmett's expression but Rosalie entire stance was rigid with anger. She reached for the bear skin on Emmett's shoulder and when she did, he backhanded her. His smile never faltered as she fell to the ground, her lip splitting open and dripping blood. The chief just turned away from her and walked away. Eventually, Rose stood and followed him.

I suppose it was around noon when Jessica discovered her filthy sheets. She looked up from the mud to Renee's door and glared, her hands fisting at her sides. She marched back to her house and slammed the door. Just then, Renee came out with a cup of coffee, sitting down on the step and noticing her ruined flowers. She began screaming, her face turning purple. Jessica came back out her door then and the women flew at each other. I watched them roll around for a bit, hitting at each other, until they were out of sight from me but, soon, I noticed the chief's car and another ambulance parked in front of the houses.

And so it went on throughout the day, pranks were played, deeds misunderstood, and anger forced people's hands in retaliation. Jasper Whitlock scaled the clock tower and threw water balloons at those below until he was arrested by Deputy Stefan Vladimir. Emily Young emptied her cat's littler box into Bree Tanner's mailbox and Bree threw a rock through Emily's bay -window. Mike Newton pulled a ladder out from under Tyler Crowley as he was climbing up to Tanya and Victoria's roof to repair shingles. Riley stole Alice Brandon's dry-cleaning from the back of her car while she was inside the bookstore. Such an exciting day!

~000~

As the day turned to night, the scene became even more peculiar. Storm clouds filled the sky and lightning streaked across the horizon; the dwindling sun casting a faint red hue upon everything in sight. Those who had been inside the store began returning, anger marred their features. Jasper Hale greeted each one at the door and the patrons this time left toting much more macabre purchases, such as guns and knives. I think I saw Jessica with a grenade.

I thought once about calling the police chief, however I reasoned it was not my place to intervene. The people of this town had clearly gone insane. They weren't far from it to begin with -each of them harboring a secret, a flaw. It all amounted to the same thing, imperfection and I wanted no part in their foolish games. It would be much more fun to wait and watch what happens.

I didn't have to wait long, the man who owned the store stepped out the door shortly before midnight. He was still wearing the same suit in which I had previously seen him. He carried a red velvet bag that was cinched closed with a rope. He sat the bag at his feet as he locked the door behind him. Then, he turned back toward the street and stood waiting. He didn't move. I've never seen anyone stand so completely still for so long.

With a longer amount of time to study him, I could see that the man was very handsome. There were no lines or ridges in his expression. His face appeared as smooth as stone. His lips were full and pouty and his eyes were coal black. Curiously, they appeared to have no depth to them at all. His tall and lanky frame never swayed or leaned. He stood perfectly straight as he watched the streets.

At precisely midnight, when the clock tower in town square began to toll, the man raised his arms to the sky and thunder struck the ground before him. The man never even flinched. He smiled to himself as the asphalt erupted in white heat, warping the street and leaving a wide gap down the center.

The police chief soon arrived but before he could exit, Rosalie McCarty's car turned the corner and came raced up the street. She never even slowed down. In fact, she appeared to accelerate just before ramming straight into her husband. She exited the car by crawling over the seats to the passenger side, blood smeared in her hair and dripping from her nose. Emmett never emerged at all.

She hobbled, dragging one leg slightly behind her as she made her way down the street. Before she could round the corner, she walked right into the path of Tanya and Victoria who were both carrying small pistols. Without hesitation, the two girls raised their arms and shot Rosalie right there on the sidewalk then turned the guns on each other.

More gunshots could be heard from the other streets that ran parallel to my own. Carlisle Cullen pulled a knife and stabbed Riley Biers before shoving it into his own abdomen. Jessica Stanley and Bree Tanner fought wildly in the street, screaming obscenities. They seemed to pretty evenly matched until Jess grabbed Bree by the hair and smashed her face through the plate glass window of the shop.

Deputy Vladimir showed up and I was sad that the spectacle before me was about to end. I smiled to myself as Alice Brandon came running out from the bookstore and jumped on his back. She twisted and pulled his head into an odd angle until he collapsed with a thud.

I laughed and clapped my hands. Each of them was finally getting what they deserved and only I seemed to be witnessing all the pleasure. Then, I noticed the man still standing at the door of the shop. One side of his mouth pulled into a dangerous smirk. The bag at his feet appeared to be fuller now and the contents could be seen moving inside the bag, shifting and turning.

Just before dawn, twenty -two people lay dead on the streets and sidewalks. Blood ran into the rain gutters. Chunks of flesh littered the avenue along with discarded clothing and weapons. The arm of Mike Newton dangled from the limb of a tree. Carlisle Cullen's head floated in a pool of congealing blood right in front of the shopkeeper.

Ignoring the mess around him, he retrieved his bag that was now bulging and made his way across the street. Many minutes passed but I could no longer see him. Soon, there came a knock at my door. Realizing it was Saturday, I stood to unlock the door and allow Jacob inside. My excitement was barely contained as I rushed to let him in so I could tell about the events of the week.

Jacob was as eager as I was to hear all of the details but he didn't seem as animated as usual. When I inquired as to his silence, he turned to me and smiled the same evil and crooked smile. Suddenly, his face began to contort and I held my breath as his features rearranged into the same fine and beautiful attributes of the shopkeeper.

Covering my heart with my hand, I asked, "W-w-what are you?"

His answer came swiftly, "You may call me Masen but I go by many names my dear Isabella. Anthony, Collin, Apollyon, Tempter, The Wicked One. Once, back in the early 1900's, I went by the simple name of Edward." He turned back to the window and waited patiently as I processed this information.

"You, you're the d-d-devil," I whispered.

"The one and only," he spoke, turning back to me.

"But-but you are so beautiful, your voice like liquid silk," I felt my face redden in embarrassment.

He brought his hand up to run his fingers through his hair, "Yes, I am," he smirked, "Everything about me invites you in- my face, my voice, even my scent. It's a mask Isabella. People see what they want to see," he said winking at me, for had I not done exactly the same thing in thinking I was letting Jacob into my home?

Momentarily, I stared into his eyes, and there I saw orbs as black as night with flames licking up the irises. I felt a pull, like a string connected us. Like with him, all things would feel like I felt watching the death and destruction of my own town. For one second a thought flashed brightly through my head, "Fuck love; give me fire!"

Masen's face softened and his eyebrow quirked, "You feel it don't you, Isabella?" I wanted to protest but before I could he continued, "As if you could deny it, silly girl. I can read your thoughts you know."

He paused, bringing his arms up and pressing his fingers together to form a steeple, "You see Isabella, **monsters are real, and ghosts are too.** They live inside of us...and sometimes they win. This is the skin of killer," he said as he reached one finger up to his face and pushed upward, just below his right eyebrow, "By the time you look into my eyes, I have already won but I cannot exist without you and those like you."

He moved back away from the window and sat next to me on the emerald green ottoman before speaking again, "Those souls who wish to give in and just feel the fire. Those who enjoy the misery of others, I am drawn to them. I am drawn to _you,_ Isabella."

"Tell me, what have you done? What was in that bag you carried?" I begged.

"I sell things to people who need them so badly that they are willing to give anything for them. I collect souls you see? Rosalie McCarty sold her soul for a baby. Riley Biers sold his for a pole his father used to take him fishing with when he was a kid. For Angela Webber, it was as easy as an out-of-date magazine of the beautiful actor she fantasizes about and for Renee Dwyer, a painting of the same man. For Jessica, it was as simple as the feeling of temptation. Everyone has a price my love."

My chest felt tight, my lungs burning from lack of oxygen but still I asked, "But they didn't get any of those things. They became mad with jealousy and suspicion. Th-they are all dead."

Patiently, he crossed his legs and explained, "As I said, people see what they want to see, Isabella. The object is unimportant, only the emotion it evokes." His eyes blazed and his eyebrow rose in question, "But you already know that don't you, love? You never needed to interact with any of those people; however, you truly enjoyed the adrenaline coursing through your veins and the quickening of your heart as you surveyed them from your ivory tower. As for what becomes of them after I own their souls... that is irrelevant to me," he said with a flourish of his arm.

"Why have you come for me? I have never done anything wrong."

"Oh but you have my love. You have sat idle while your town was ravaged. You, Isabella, have passed judgment on all those around you, putting yourself above all others. You chose to take the place of God on this street and _that, _my child, is your sin. Greater than any of those you felt beneath you."

I felt the tightening of my heart and numbness spreading up my arm.

He smiled again, almost lovingly, "Sleep now my love. Soon, I will take you home with me and add you to my collection. I shall place your soul on the shelf with Adolph Hitler and Charles Manson and you shall stay with me for all of eternity."

_**Direct quote from Stephen King_


End file.
